


High Hopes (It takes me back to when it all first started)

by deansparkles



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Thomas is a lovesick idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5925652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansparkles/pseuds/deansparkles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt by otpblr:<br/>"I wake up to find that I’ve fallen asleep on you, gosh this is awkward."</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Hopes (It takes me back to when it all first started)

Thomas doesn’t dare to move. His back is beginning to ache, and his arm has fallen asleep, the uncomfortable tingling spreading through the limb. It’s almost as if it is begging him to finally change his stiff position into one that’s more comfortable and less restricting than the one he’s been in for quite some time now. But still he stubbornly remains seated on the hard, wooden stool at the dining table, watching the end of his cigarette gradually turn into nothing but a stub.

He can’t recall the last time a person felt comfortable enough with him to fall asleep on his shoulder — if it ever happened before. He’s spent some nights in other men’s beds and arms, yes, but still; physical closeness is a scarce sensation for a man like him. Especially the kind that matters. And with Jimmy, everything matters.

Thomas is almost painfully aware of the weight of Jimmy’s head against his shoulder, of the soft ends of hair tickling the skin on the crook of his neck, of Jimmy’s lips so close to the fabric of Thomas’s suit.

 _Too close_ , Thomas thinks, suddenly wishing that the others servants were here. Daisy, Mrs Hughes, or hell, even bloody Carson, the latter surely capable of giving Thomas a reason to put a stop to this _immediately_.

It’s in this moment that Jimmy happens to stir beside him, and Thomas briefly forgets to breathe in an attempt to keep as still as possible. His muscles and nerves are as taut as they can be, and he braces himself for Jimmy’s reaction, for Jimmy’s anger, perhaps even for his disgust. But instead of yelling at Thomas, Jimmy merely inches even closer to him, eyes still closed, a content murmur leaving his lips.

 _God damn those lips_ , Thomas curses internally, unable to take his eyes off of them. This entire picture awfully reminds him of a similar situation the two of them had been in before, in which Jimmy had been asleep before him, still, peaceful, oblivious. Though ‘situation’ hardly seems a fitting term for the one mistake that almost ruined his life.

But Thomas has learned from his mistakes. Or so he convinces himself, as his hand rises almost of its own volition to gently push a wayward strand of hair out of Jimmy’s face. _An ordinary gesture among friends_ , Thomas tells himself. _Friends are allowed to touch each other with ordinary gestures, aren’t they?_

It’s the first time since ‘the incident’ that Thomas has consciously decided to touch Jimmy, always having been too afraid to drive him away, to lose his friendship. Of course there have been times in which he accidentally brushed Jimmy’s hand while reaching for something or touched his shoulder with his own while walking around the corridors. Every time those unavoidable encounters happened, Jimmy had given him an unreadable look, and Thomas had been sure to quickly retreat, muttering a quick apology under his breath.

Thomas still has Jimmy’s friendship; late nights playing cards as they’ve done this evening, talking, sometimes hours at a time, sharing a cigarette, listening to Jimmy play the piano. Thomas never had a friend before. Not like that. And he surely isn’t going to jeopardise that just because he happens to be in love with Jimmy.

So he’s tried to conceal his feelings as much as he could — though he’s sure that anyone taking a proper look at his face during the past years would have seen through his pretence in an instant.

“I do love you,” Thomas whispers without moving lips, so softly that it’s really nothing more than a breath of air. “Still.”

It feels good, saying it out loud. Even if it’s just this once. Even if it doesn’t change anything.

_It’s not against the law to hope, is it?_

“Thomas,” Jimmy suddenly mumbles against his shoulder.

Thomas freezes, his heart skipping a beat.

_You foolish idiot. You lovesick, foolish idiot._

“Jimmy, I—” Thomas begins, utterly uncertain on how to proceed.

“Mhm,” Jimmy makes, shuffling even _closer_ , and that’s when Thomas realises that Jimmy’s still fast asleep and merely dreaming. The side of Jimmy’s face is now pressed against Thomas’s collarbone, his hair tousled and his mouth hanging open, painting a picture that Thomas is sure Jimmy would view as an embarrassing disaster if he could see himself now. Thomas, on the other hand, doesn’t believe he has ever seen anything more beautiful.

“Didn’t take you for a sleep talker,” Thomas mutters under his breath, and in a matter of seconds his relief gives way to curiosity. He tries not to read too much into the fact that Jimmy appears to be dreaming about him, but instantly fails. He stares at Jimmy, expectantly, and though the younger man’s lips curl into a small, content smile, no more words appear to want to escape his mouth.

Well, at least it’s not a nightmare.

Apparently having lost any sense of reason for tonight, Thomas lifts his hand again and guides it to the crown of Jimmy’s head, softly brushing through the streaks of hair with his fingers. Jimmy leans into his touch, causing Thomas’s hand to slightly tremble, but still he cannot find the strength to stop. Feeling rather brave, or stupid (it’s a dangerously fine line between them, Thomas thinks) Thomas lets his fingers travel further down until he reaches Jimmy’s neck. With the pad of his thumb he traces the sharp line of Jimmy’s jaw, caresses the spot just below his ear, and stops at the hem of Jimmy’s shirt, hesitating. Another scene from the past flares up in the back of his mind, the echoes of distant piano music, of Jimmy stiffening at the unwelcome touch.

As if he’s been stung by the memory, Thomas draws his hand back, deciding to keep it fixed at his side, where it’s unable to do any more harm.

“Why did you stop?”

Jimmy’s voice is far too clear to be that of a sleeping man. Thomas’s stomach drops at the realisation, and he quickly leans back, trying to make the distance between him and Jimmy as big as he can. “You’re awake,” Thomas says flatly, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

Something flashes across Jimmy’s face, and his eyes drop to the ground, remaining there as he slowly sits up until he’s upright again.

Thomas forms a tight smile, now sure he’s ruined everything with his utter lack of self-control. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.”

“Don’t,” Jimmy says quickly, still unwilling, or unable to look back at him. His face is flushed, coloured red with embarrassment and Thomas sees it, knows he’s the cause for Jimmy’s disgust, and hates himself for it.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Thomas continues, and the pitch in his voice is getting higher again, just as it does every time he’s upset. “I told you I wouldn’t ask this of you, and I meant it. It’s not going to happen again, I promise.”

“God, Thomas, _stop_.”

The legs of Jimmy’s chair give a squeak as they scrape against the floor. Jimmy vaults to his feet in one swift motion and turns his back on Thomas, walking away with trembling steps until he faces the bells, concealing his face.

The words die in Thomas’s throat as it constricts, painfully so. He can’t fix this. He’s ruined everything. Swallowing, he rises to his feet, mindlessly throwing the stub of his cigarette on the ground, not caring if Carson’s going to give him an earful about it. Hell, he doesn’t even know if he’s going to have a job tomorrow.

He’s just about to brush past Jimmy, to get away from this mess, when Jimmy speaks up, making Thomas stop short.

“Wait,” Jimmy says. “Please.”

It’s the uncommon politeness that makes him look back at Jimmy.

“Where are you going?” Jimmy asks, his back still turned.

“To my room,” Thomas replies tightly. “To pack my bags, I suppose.”

Now Jimmy does turn around. His cheeks are still scarlet, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip. At his side, his hands are clenched into fists. He’s as undone as Thomas has ever seen him.

“Do you honestly believe,” he starts, almost piercing Thomas with his eyes, “that after _everything_ , I’d still tell on you?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas says truthfully. “You’re disgusted with me, and I’d understand if you—”

“ _Disgusted_?” Jimmy echoes. He scoffs and shakes his head. “You really do not have a clue, do you?”

“Do enlighten me then, James,” Thomas replies tersely.

“Oh no, don’t you do that,” Jimmy warns, taking a few steps closer to Thomas.

“Don’t do what?”

“That whole emotionless act you put on when you’re hurt,” Jimmy clarifies angrily. “It doesn’t work on me. I can see right through it.”

 _Can you_? Thomas wonders silently.

“What do you want me to do then?” he asks instead. His voice starts wavering again, but he sees no point in trying to hide it. “I’ll do anything. Tell me, and I’ll do it.”

It’s strange what love does to a person. Especially when it’s mingled with desperation and fear. Thomas wouldn’t make himself this small for anyone. He wouldn’t lose sight of his pride, wouldn’t put his entire being at the mercy of another person.

But in this moment, Thomas Barrow would do absolutely everything for Jimmy Kent.

“Kiss me.”

Thomas blinks, certain he didn’t hear correctly. Because surely, Jimmy didn’t just—

“You haven’t misheard,” Jimmy says in one breath, struggling to keep looking Thomas into the eyes.

Thomas is still frozen in place, feeling like a schoolboy with knees of jelly as he watches how Jimmy takes another step forward. He’s so close that Thomas can feel his shaky breaths on his face.

“Are you sure?”

Instead of answering, Jimmy grabs him by the shirt, pulling him towards him, crushing his lips against Thomas’s with a sense of desperation Thomas only understands too well. He doesn’t know how often he’s dreamt of this, on how many occasions he’s imagined how Jimmy’s mouth would feel on his own.

Thomas closes his eyes, waiting for someone take this away from him, for Jimmy to come to his senses and push him away again, for waking up and realising that all of it’s been a dream as the scene evaporates in front of him.

But the touch of Jimmy’s lips doesn’t disappear. Instead, Thomas gets pushed against the wall, pinned down by Jimmy’s weight, Jimmy’s knee pressing between Thomas’s legs, causing a soft moan to escape his throat.

He raises his hands, cups Jimmy’s face between them, just like he’s tried to that dreadful night, but this time Jimmy doesn’t flinch and pull away. This time, Jimmy lifts his own hand, puts it on top of Thomas’s, their lips not breaking contact.

Thomas doesn’t know how the kiss really lasted, but when Jimmy slowly pulls away again, they are both out of breath, their legs unsteady as they are holding onto each other to keep from falling.

Thomas leans forward to press his forehead against Jimmy’s, still cupping the other man’s face.

“That was—” Jimmy grates, his voice rough and uneven. He clears his throat, trying again, “that was... that— wow.”

Thomas can only nod. They only thing they did was kissing, not even _proper_ kissing, and he already feels more alive than he ever did after spending an entire night with someone unimportant.

“Let’s do it again,” Jimmy whispers, barely hiding a grin.

Thomas allows himself to smile, still trying to grasp the fact that this is _real_. Now that the prior sense of urgency is slowly ebbing away, Thomas decides to take his time as he gently begins to brush his lips against Jimmy’s. Letting go of Jimmy’s cheek, Thomas lets one of his hands trail down, using the tips to trace Jimmy’s jaw, his neck, his shoulder, his arm, his hand... Holding Jimmy’s hand in his, he interlaces their fingers as he licks against Jimmy’s lips until they gladly part underneath the pressure.

“You’re good at this,” Jimmy comments in between the kisses. “Had much practice?”

“Not as much as you, I suppose,” Thomas murmurs back, using his other hand to press Jimmy’s body closer to his own.

“Mhm, perhaps you’re right,” Jimmy says, taking this moment to start sucking on Thomas’s bottom lip, to then gently graze it with his teeth.

“Cheeky.”

Jimmy smiles against his mouth, and Thomas seizes the chance to let his mouth travel further, burying his head into the crook of Jimmy’s neck, kissing the warm skin there.

After a while he stops, simply resting his forehead on Jimmy’s shoulder, keeping his arms wrapped around his torso, holding him as tightly as he can, suddenly afraid to let go again.

Jimmy sinks into his embrace, soothingly combing through Thomas’s hair, not unlike from the position they’ve been earlier, when Thomas still thought Jimmy to be asleep.

“I heard you, you know,” Jimmy breathes against Thomas’s hair.

“What exactly? When did you wake up?”

An awkward silence arises, and Thomas draws back just so far that he’s able to look into Jimmy’s eyes. “Jimmy?”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“You weren’t asleep,” Thomas repeats, letting the meaning of those words sink in.

Jimmy gives a short laugh. “You were as stiff as a bloody rock, Thomas. It’s not exactly the most comfortable position to sleep in.”

“You mean you _pretended_ to be asleep,” Thomas concludes, passing over Jimmy’s comment. He pushes his eyebrows together, trying to make sense of Jimmy’s intention in doing so. “Why?”

Jimmy’s reply comes fast and unflinchingly. “You know why.”

Thomas’s mouth falls open as his own words are being thrown back at him. “I still don’t understand.”

“For someone who’s usually so smart, you can be really daft, you know that?” Jimmy lifts his hand, using the back of it to gently brush against Thomas’s cheek. “So you could do that.”

Thomas immediately leans into the touch. “You could have said something.”

 _It certainly would have spared me a whole lot of suffering_ , he adds silently.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure you still felt the same,” Jimmy admits. “Every time we so much as brushed our shoulders together you acted as you’ve been stung. I thought maybe there was somebody else you wanted to ambush while they’re sleeping.”

Thomas gives him a look, and Jimmy actually has the audacity to smirk at him. “Too soon?”

“There wasn’t somebody else,” Thomas says quietly. “Not since I met you.”

For a split second, Jimmy’s eyes widen at that, and a flash of raw emotion crosses his face, something almost close to vulnerability. Thomas sees him swallow in an attempt to quickly regain his composure. “Well, I couldn’t be sure. And I wasn’t. Not until tonight, anyway.”

“When you heard me foolishly revealing my feelings to you.”

“You always were the braver one of us.”

“I love you.”

Jimmy raises an eyebrow, but is unable to suppress his grin. “You also are the soppier one.”

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Thomas is not even aware of the wide smile forming on his own features until the corners of his mouth begin to ache.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm still not over these two.
> 
> If you've read and liked the story, please consider taking a few seconds to leave a comment. It always makes all those days spent with writing so much more worth it :)


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